Trade
by Novelia
Summary: Chakotay finds himself dragged into a mess created by Paris that he would really rather avoid.
1. Chapter 1

Trade  
  
*****  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, I'm just borrowing them from Paramount.  
  
A/N: Okay folks, C/P...and I warn that this was a somewhat challenged piece, so you may find a few odd things in there...lol  
  
*****  
  
"You're out of line, Ensign!"  
  
Ensign Tom Paris managed to satisfy himself by sending the First Officer an ice filled glare as a reply, biting back the automatic sarcasm, realising he had already pushed the Commander far enough. Jaw clenched, Tom turned and ducked out of Sickbay as abruptly as the Commander had entered, leaving Chakotay to throw an inane,  
  
"Dismissed." At the closed doors.  
  
  
  
Tom flew into his quarters, slamming an open palm into the bulkhead as he often did when he missed the sound of a slamming oak door.  
  
He still couldn't believe the sheer audacity of the man! He had been back on board barely long enough to check into sickbay before the Commander had come sailing in, throwing what were as near to insults as he could possibly get, whilst he was in his uniform with the Doctor hovering on the periphery, left, right and centre. Sure, perhaps he hadn't conducted the mining mission in the most orthodox of ways, but he had got the job done, and he was damned sure that was more than anyone else onboard could say if they had been in his predicament.  
  
He stalked into the bedroom, clambered out of his uniform and found a pair of black sweat pants to pull on. He moved back into the main room, heading straight for the replicator,  
  
"Scotch."  
  
He picked up the glass and consumed the contents in one go. Restricted items from the replicator had been a luxury he'd enjoyed from very early on in their journey. Tampering with the controls really was far too easy; it had sometimes made him wonder if perhaps it was an intended fault, granted by pitying designers, but that, of course, would be ridiculous.  
  
"Scotch. Bottle."  
  
He took the bottle round to his sofa, where he dropped down and sprawled out till he occupied the whole thing. Helping himself to a drink he continued his rant on the Commander to himself. One of the things that really pissed him off was that outraging habit that he had of conveniently forgetting his position as Starfleet officer one minute, enthusiastically letting Tom know his condemnation on the subject at hand, usually being him or at least how magnificently he had fucked up, and then the next minute, coincidentally as soon as he started giving some back to the Commander, he would pull rank with a line as superbly predictable as 'You're out of line, Ensign'. Ensign. Tom snorted with what could be said to resemble a bitter laughter. The perfect condescending phrase finished off with another twisted, painful insult.  
  
Ensign.  
  
Tom glanced down at the bottle in his hand and was slightly shocked by the amount he'd gotten through without realising it. However, as he rose and walked through into his bedroom with just enough presence of mind to tuck the bottle, with its now small amount left, into his bedside drawer, his body confirmed what his eyes had told him about how much he had consumed. He managed to drop into bed though, pulling a sheet over himself, with his last thought being a thin hope that perhaps the solace of the alcohol would provide the bonus of oblivion in sleep, keeping the damned nightmares away, for one night in any case. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1  
  
*****  
  
That was odd. Tom was now twenty minutes late for his shift. Captain Janeway sent another backward glance at the turbolift, before informing Commander Chakotay of her observation.  
  
"He wasn't kept in sickbay after returning to the ship." Chakotay replied, and then mentally added to himself, Yes, well seeing as the Doctor wasn't able to catch up with him after he ran out of sickbay before he'd undergone his medical, that's not very likely, is it?  
  
Janeway frowned, and sat up in her chair.  
  
"Bridge to Paris."  
  
No response.  
  
"Bridge to Paris, please respond."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Computer, locate Ensign Paris."  
  
"Ensign Paris is in his quarters."  
  
Janeway turned her concerned face questioningly toward Chakotay.  
  
"I'll go and check it out." Chakotay said, already on his way to the turbolift.  
  
  
  
What the hell was he playing at? Chakotay fumed on his way to the pilot's quarters. A small voice of reason plucked at the back of his mind, telling him that something wasn't right about it, Paris wasn't even answering his comm badge, but he countered with the fact that he wouldn't tolerate this lax behaviour from anyone else, so making him justified with his criticism. His anger had nothing to do with the fact that it was the arrogant and infuriating damned Tom Paris who had screwed up. Or at least that's what he told himself.  
  
Out of automatic courtesy, he chimed first, and then admitted himself when there was no response.  
  
He swept a quick, sharp eye over the room. It wasn't as chaotic as he'd expected, but it was certainly what some would kindly call 'well lived in', with the odd crumpled shirt here, a couple of stray PADD's there. But no Paris.  
  
Chakotay caught a faint noise from the bedroom.  
  
"I swear, Paris, if you're still asleep, or have someone else in there..." He called out as he made his way for the door. He was about to advance into the room when he saw the figure in the bed, but stopped short when he took in the disturbing scene before him.  
  
The sheets had coiled and twisted around Tom's long legs, leaving his bare chest exposed and covered with the thin sheen of sweat as it frantically heaved up and down, drawing in harsh, ragged breaths with unnatural rapidity. His hands were convulsively clutching at the sheet beneath him, whilst his head was tossing from side to side, his lips moving fervently but his mutterings too quiet for Chakotay to hear.  
  
Chakotay's reaction was one of both alarm and awkwardness. He moved to the side of the bed.  
  
"Paris? Ensign, wake up."  
  
Tom was becoming even more distressed now. His mutterings were being interrupted by groans and what could only be described as pained, choked sobs. His arms had now started to fling out in front of him.  
  
Chakotay had always known that the Ensign suffered from nightmares, you couldn't help but notice when sent on away missions together, as they often were, the two of them shut together in a shuttle for what always seemed far too long. But it had been a long time since he'd seen anyone caught up in such a distressing and obviously terrifying state from one.  
  
"Paris, it's okay, wake up. Tom? Tom wake up. Now." He had stretched a tentative hand out to Tom's shoulder. Upon contact, his blue eyes flew open. Tom frantically pushed the hand away and hastily slid across to the other side of the bed.  
  
"Tom, it's Chakotay, you're okay." Chakotay had started to move round to Tom's side of the bed, but Tom caught the movement.  
  
"Keep the fuck away from me."  
  
"Okay." Chakotay took a step backward, and was at a loss as to what to do next. He was contemplating calling for the Doctor when Tom buried his head in his hands, and fought to bring his breathing under control. Chakotay slipped round to him and sat on the side of the bed, being careful to still keep his distance.  
  
"Are you okay, Paris?" Chakotay asked quietly.  
  
He'd forgotten he had moved closer without Paris seeing. Tom had immediately jumped off the bed, defences firmly in place, but not before Chakotay saw a flash of panic cross the young pilot's features.  
  
"What the hell would you care?" Tom practically shouted. Chakotay managed to remain silent; he knew that Paris was still recovering from his nightmare and refused to get into an argument with him.  
  
Tom glanced at the chronometer.  
  
"Fuck." He found out a fresh uniform and moved into the bathroom to change. When he came out dressed, he held a vial in his hand. He opened his bedside drawer, in which Chakotay couldn't help but notice a bottle of scotch with a large quantity missing, and pulled out a hypo-spray, loaded it and pressed it to his neck. He then stood in front of Chakotay,  
  
"Sorry I'm late Sir. It won't happen again. Shall we go?"  
  
Chakotay nodded, and they both left together. On the journey to the turbolift, Chakotay asked,  
  
"What was in the hypo?"  
  
"Painkiller."  
  
Chakotay merely remained silent. Paris, you need to learn how to throw out the minor lies as convincingly as you churn out the major ones. Of course, he probably did when he wasn't distracted and still obviously shaken up, Chakotay added as his frown deepened. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
Well, looks like I spoke to soon Tom thought as he remembered his ridiculous notion that maybe, just maybe, he might be able to enjoy one peaceful night of oblivion.  
  
But no, instead it had been worse than all the previous ones, and, to top it off, he was being marched into the Captain's ready room. With Chakotay.  
  
"So Ensign, would you care to explain to me why you're over an hour late for your shift?" The Captain asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
"I'm afraid I can't offer you much of an explanation, Captain. I overslept, all I can do is apologise and assure you that it won't happen again." Tom replied as smoothly as possible.  
  
"You overslept." She repeated in a flat tone of disapproval. She allowed a brief pause before continuing. "The conduct you have displayed this morning is not acceptable from anyone, especially a bridge officer."  
  
Chakotay, who had been silent since their journey to the bridge, suddenly stepped forward. "Captain, I think perhaps you should be made aware that Ensign Paris has only supplied part of the explanation, that is to say, he hasn't told you why he overslept."  
  
The Captain looked at Tom expectantly. Tom merely clasped his hands behind his back and continued to stare somewhere just to the left of the Captain. He wanted to ask Chakotay what the hell he thought he was playing at. However, he managed to restrain his response to the straightening of his back and the clenching of his jaw.  
  
After a moment's pause, when it became clear that Tom was going to remain silent, Chakotay decided he would have to inform the Captain himself.  
  
"When I entered his quarters, I found him experiencing what appeared to be a very violent and distressing nightmare. It took me several minutes to rouse him, and then a substantial amount of time for him to recover. I also know the same thing, but to a lesser extent, has occurred many times in the past, in fact, close to every night that I have spent with him on away missions."  
  
The Captain was silent for a few minutes whilst she absorbed the information she had just received. Finally, she turned to Tom with a look of concern.  
  
"Have you reported this to the Doctor?"  
  
"No, Captain." Tom knew the way to get through this was to keep the answers as short as possible. Unfortunately, Tom realised that Chakotay wasn't going to let it drop so easily when he heard him begin to speak again.  
  
"Captain, if I might make a suggestion?"  
  
She gave Chakotay a curt nod.  
  
"From the little I've witnessed, it's clear that these episodes cause Ensign Paris a substantial amount of distress, it is my recommendation that he receives counselling to discover what is causing them so we can prevent their occurrence. I would like to volunteer my services as unofficial counsellor."  
  
Tom's head snapped round to glare at Chakotay. No way! There was no way in hell that he was going to spill his guts to Chakotay of all people.  
  
"Captain, there's really no need for that, I'm perfectly fine, I just have a little trouble sleeping now and then." Tom insisted.  
  
"Ensign, if what Commander Chakotay says is accurate, then you have done a good job of managing, up until now. However, it's become apparent that it's started to affect your performance, as we have seen this morning. With that in mind, I'm inclined to agree with Commander Chakotay." She held a hand up to silence Tom when she saw his mouth open, ready to protest. "I need everyone at peak efficiency, Ensign. You will begin after your shift today. Dismissed."  
  
Tom spun round and strode out of the office in silence, not trusting himself to speak. He sat down at his station and fumed away the rest of the shift, dreading its end but also eager for the chance it would give him to ask Chakotay what the hell he thought he was doing. 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
What the hell am I doing? Chakotay thought to himself as he made his way to Paris' quarters, he had decided it was best to start in a territory familiar with Paris. But he didn't have to be on his way to see Paris, he could be having a drink, in the holodeck, or even getting some work done, but no. He had insisted that he counsel, *counsel*, Tom Paris. And he knew that Paris wouldn't thank him for it, oh no, far from it. Despite his perfect display of a Starfleet officer on the bridge today, he had almost been able to feel the waves of animosity emitting from the pilot. But perhaps the most disturbing of all was the lack of Paris humour on the bridge, despite it being irritating and usually directed at him, its absence was disquieting. He hadn't cracked any jokes, or turned round and flashed that cocky grin of his, or even given that infuriating look of mock disappointment whilst he pouted those lips...  
  
Whoa! Where the hell had that come from?  
  
But, of course, he knew where that had come from. Okay...he thought as he continued down the corridor...so I find him eye-catching, and so what? Who doesn't, he's damn near the most attractive, good-looking man on this ship. That doesn't stop him being the most annoying and arrogant man who needs taking down a notch, or two, or three, at the same time.  
  
But yet, he was standing outside his quarters, pressing the chime and probably about to receive a barrage of abuse, all to help this 'annoying and arrogant' man. And when he tried to work out why his mind supplied the image from that morning, of Paris caught up in terror with a look of pain twisting his features. Chakotay suppressed a shiver as he gave up on trying to get it all sorted out in his head, and instead focussed his mind on the task ahead as he heard Tom's call to enter.  
  
"Good evening, Commander, would you like a drink?" Paris asked, standing in the middle of the room, facing him as he entered.  
  
Formal. So this is how it's going to be, is it?  
  
"Chakotay."  
  
"Excuse me, sir?" Paris seemed a little confused.  
  
"You can call me Chakotay when we're off duty."  
  
"With all due respect, sir, this is no social visit." He replied in clipped tones.  
  
"Well, seeing as I'm an unofficial counsellor, I guess this is an unofficial visit." Chakotay could almost see Paris biting back a hasty reply. He wished that he could see past that damned mask of aloofness, even just for a moment.  
  
"Won't you sit down?" Apparently, Paris hadn't been able to keep an edge of sarcasm from his voice.  
  
"Thank you." Chakotay ignored the tone of Paris' voice and took a seat opposite the sofa that Paris had just settled back in with a carefully executed, confident pose. After a moment of contemplating Chakotay, he asked with a voice, louder than his normal easygoing tone, tainted with barely controlled anger,  
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?"  
  
At last! The quiet coolness had been starting to get to Chakotay...  
  
"The Captain..."  
  
"The Captain acted on your recommendation."  
  
"Paris, what I saw this morning..."  
  
"Was one slip. The Captain said it herself this morning; I've coped just fine up until now, but I make one slip, and all of a sudden I'm 'distressed' and need counselling! It's ridiculous! Do you jump every time someone has a nightmare? Because if you do, you must be a very busy man." Paris was shouting by now, despite the calm he had tried to convey earlier.  
  
"We both know it's more than that, Paris. You've been suffering from them all the years that I've been going on away missions with you."  
  
"It's nothing! I'm sorry if I've bothered you, really I am, but they're just stupid, pathetic, childish nightmares." Paris had got up and was pacing the length of the sofa. Finally he made his way over to the view- port and looked out at the countless stars, so turning his back on Chakotay.  
  
"Well, it was serious enough this morning to make you cry out in pain. You were in *pain*, Tom, I can't just ignore that."  
  
Tom turned round, with a mocking laugh. "Oh, I see. I'd wondered why you'd go through all this for me, why you seemed concerned about me, but it's not about me, is it? It's about your conscience."  
  
"That's unfair Paris."  
  
"Is it? I don't think so. You're just the same as all the rest, only deem yourself worthy of coming into contact with me if you can get something out of it for yourself." All traces of laughter had gone. Instead he had spoken with hurt and disdain. He turned back to the stars, "I think perhaps you should go."  
  
Chakotay knew he would not get anything from the man now, so he stood, saying, "I'll see you tomorrow." And left.  
  
He knew he shouldn't have bothered, he knew he should have just left it, but as he strode back to his own quarters, Paris' last statement kept playing back in his mind,  
  
'You're just the same as all the rest, only deem yourself worthy of coming into contact with me if you can get something out of it for yourself.'  
  
Something was obviously wrong with Paris, and for some inexplicable reason, other than his stubbornness, Chakotay was determined he would find out what and help the young pilot, even if it killed them both. 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
Well done Tommy-boy that probably just earned you another month of counselling sessions, Tom thought, shaking his head to himself as he continued to gaze out of the view-port. He had completely blown his chance of persuading Chakotay that he was fine.  
  
At the beginning of the evening, he had told himself that he was going to be completely calm, give the Commander no reason to believe that the thought of having to be counselled bothered him in any way, and what had happened? He had started shouting at his senior officer. Now he's going to be even more suspicious.  
  
Number one rule, don't let it show that it bothers you - and you just broke it.  
  
But the fact was, it did bother him. It bothered him immensely. There were very few things that he could say bothered him more than counselling. He closed his eyes as he cast his mind back and all he could see was him. Tom sighed and opened his eyes. He started to mutter constant, comforting statements about the situation to himself. But even as he said them, he didn't hold any belief in them. He tried to tell himself that it couldn't be that bad having to talk to the Commander; surely it could be a hell of a lot worse? Chakotay. Sure, they disliked each other, but it would never be a repeat of Doctor Wilkinson. And who knows, he might actually find some comfort in the strong, reassuring commander...  
  
When Tom realised what he was thinking, he literally shook his head clear of the thought, and his irrational feeling of panic at the thought of having to attend counselling, unofficial or not, returned. The feeling became even worse when he again thought of it being the Commander he would be expected to tell all to. There was no way in hell that he was going to share his private life, things he had never told anyone, with that man.  
  
So, having decided on that, he walked over to the replicator,  
  
"Scotch." 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
"Look, Mister Paris, my decision is final."  
  
"But Captain, you don't understand, if there were anything wrong, which there is not, the last man on this ship I would want to share it with would be Commander Chakotay."  
  
"I'm well aware of the somewhat...strained relationship that the two of you share, but I'm sure that the Commander won't treat you any differently than he would any other member of this crew who needed to talk over a problem with him."  
  
Tom couldn't prevent a small sigh of frustration escaping his lips; he did however manage to refrain from holding his head in his hands, as he was very tempted to do. He'd been trying to persuade the Captain for the past ten minutes and they were going round in circles. He couldn't understand how the Captain couldn't see that there was no point in counselling if he wasn't comfortable with the counsellor.  
  
"Captain, surely there is someone else..."  
  
"The only other possible candidates would be Tuvok and the Doctor. Tuvok already has enough on his plate as it is dealing with other crew members and that leaves the Doctor."  
  
Tom remained silent, but evidentially the look of disapproval on his face was enough to inform the Captain of his thoughts, so she carried on.  
  
"Exactly. So I take it that's decided, it will be Commander Chakotay. And besides, it might even help you two to get on a little better, because to be quite frank, mister Paris, if the relationship between you two doesn't improve soon, I'm going to be very tempted to knock your heads together."  
  
"I hardly think this is the time, place or situation for bonding sessions."  
  
The Captain studied him for a moment and then said in a quiet, shrewd but not in any way unkind voice,  
  
"I thought it was nothing, Tom. I thought you were perfectly fine, and it was just that you have a little trouble sleeping."  
  
"Exactly, like I said, nothing's wrong." He replied, but a little warily, he knew that tone of voice she was using.  
  
"Then you shouldn't have any difficulty talking about 'nothing' with the Commander. If there's nothing wrong, surely you won't have any qualms about talking things through with him."  
  
Again, Tom was merely silent; she had a point.  
  
The Captain leant forward with a small compassionate smile,  
  
"I know it's not ideal, but if it helps you then it'll have all been worth it."  
  
Great, that was all he needed, sympathy from the Captain.  
  
"Yes, Captain." He replied tersely as he stood and strode toward the door. Just as he was leaving, the Captain called after him...  
  
"And try not to kill each other." 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
Chakotay was just about ready to throw something at the man in frustration. Tom Paris must be the only person he knew who was capable of participating in a half-hour conversation purely with monosyllables.  
  
"You said that they always wake you?" Chakotay asked as calmly as possible.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What do you remember of them when you wake up?"  
  
Tom merely shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Tom, if you don't start to cooperate, these sessions are going to go on for a very long time, and I'm sure after two years you'll be just as bored as I am."  
  
"Please feel free to leave at any time." Tom said, still refusing to look at him. For the entire session, Tom had not once looked up at Chakotay.  
  
"What do you remember from the dreams when you wake up?" Chakotay asked, the vision of strained patience, ignoring Tom's statement.  
  
"It varies."  
  
"Can you give me an example?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"'Not really' because you can't remember them that well, or 'Not really' because you don't want to tell me?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"You don't know?"  
  
"No."  
  
Chakotay studied the man in front of him. He was clearly anxious, despite his best efforts to hide it. And Chakotay couldn't blame him; Tom was being expected to relate some of his most private feelings and perhaps fears to a man he had never got on with. He could understand where he was coming from, but at the same time it frustrated him. He wanted to get to the bottom of this for both of their sakes, whether Tom was willing to believe that or not. Chakotay couldn't quite believe it himself.  
  
"Paris, I'm going to make a suggestion, and you're probably not going to like it, however, if you refuse, then I shall take it up with the Captain, and I'm sure you'd prefer to just get on with all this without the Captain having to make everything an order."  
  
"What?" Tom asked warily, still looking at the floor.  
  
"That I move in here with you for a couple of days. I'll take your sofa, and that way, if a nightmare wakes you, you can immediately come and relate it to me, so no excuses of not being able to remember. It'll work a lot quicker."  
  
Tom's head snapped up and caught Chakotay's gaze, Tom's own eyes widening with a mixture of shock and apprehension.  
  
"No. Absolutely not. No way, no how." Tom stated as he jumped up and wandered over to his spot by the window, looking out at the endless view to avoid Chakotay's intense stare.  
  
Well, at least he didn't start shouting, Chakotay thought as he got up and went over to Tom.  
  
"Then I'll have to ask the Captain to make it an order for you tomorrow then."  
  
"Damn you, Chakotay." Tom managed to get out, without turning round, still staring fixedly out of his view-port.  
  
"It won't be that bad, Paris, I'll only be here to sleep, all of my other spare time I will be in my own quarters." Chakotay managed to refrain from adding that he hated the idea just as much as he did, but it was the only thing he could think of that might actually end in some results.  
  
"But...I can't...you don't understand..." Tom said nervously.  
  
Concern started to nudge at Chakotay; Tom sounded genuinely shaken up.  
  
"It's okay, tell me what's bothering you. It'll remain totally confidential if that's what you're worried about." Chakotay said kindly.  
  
"I...I don't think I can...I don't..." Tom began before giving up, shaking his head.  
  
Chakotay looked at Tom, still turned away from him, running a nervous hand through his hair.  
  
"Take your time." Chakotay suggested, laying a hand on the younger man's shoulder.  
  
Tom suddenly span round, jerking the hand off his shoulder. Chakotay was shocked to see a moment of fear in Tom's eyes as he backed away until he was touching the view-port.  
  
"Don't touch me. *Never* touch me."  
  
The sheer intensity of Tom's words made Chakotay blink with disbelief for a moment before taking a step backwards, lifting both hands apologetically in the air.  
  
"I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way."  
  
"Yeah, well...you do now." Tom said awkwardly, obviously feeling a little self-conscious now that whatever had overtaken him had passed.  
  
"Look, I've been here a while, perhaps I should leave you in peace now. I'll see you tomorrow night - and I'll be bringing my overnight bag with me."  
  
Tom merely turned back to his view-port as Chakotay left. 


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
"You've gotta help me! Please?" Tom pleaded with the Doctor. Even though his tone had been of mock, melodramatic staging to put on a little show of indifference for the Doc, there was a fundamental honesty in his appeal.  
  
The Doctor was the only person who really knew, or at least could take an educated guess at Tom's situation. The evidence was there for him every time he examined the Ensign, even if for some contrived reason or another it hadn't been entered into his personal records at the time. Yet the Doctor, however blunt or unsubtle some believed him to be, knew his place and had never ventured to discuss the knowledge with Tom, knowing that if he wanted to talk about it, he would have to wait for Tom to approach him. He also knew that the likelihood of that ever happening with Tom would be very, very slim. Likewise, Tom would carry on with the act, under the pretence that there was nothing to know, and that the Doctor didn't know it.  
  
However, Tom had decided that he had the need to try and ask for the Doctor's assistance, and although it was never mentioned, they both knew the underlying reason behind Tom's anxiousness.  
  
"What on earth do you expect me to do?" the Doctor responded tersely.  
  
"Tell him I'm okay. Tell him he can't stay in my quarters. Tell him I have some rare contagious disease, preventing him from sharing my living space - I really don't care! But please, Doc, there must be something you can do?"  
  
"Mister Paris, have you ever tried to deter the Commander in the past, once he has his mind set on something?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Have you succeeded?"  
  
"Sometimes."  
  
"Well I have yet to experience such a triumph."  
  
"Then you just don't understand his motivations." Tom answered with a suggestive smile.  
  
The Doctor let out an irritable sigh. "And I think I should prefer that it stayed that way."  
  
"Look, one word from you, and I can get him off my back."  
  
"I'm sorry, Mister Paris, but there really isn't anything I can do." The Doctor stated impatiently. He wasn't going to add that, although he wasn't sure of the Commander's deliberate and hasty methods, he had no intention of preventing the Commander from following up on this; surely it could only be a good thing if maybe Chakotay could actually get through the masquerade and help the man. 


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
"Hah! I shall crush you in an instant! Did I or did I not tell you that you'd be dead by dawn? Come...meet thy doom vile creature!"  
  
"Mister Paris! Will you *please* stick to the god damned lines!"  
  
"I was just trying to liven things up a bit." Tom replied with a perfected look of innocence.  
  
"As enlightening as your unique insights are, I doubt very much that during the fencing scene, Hamlet would suddenly start taunting Laertes by calling 'Come on then - give me your best shot' from the balcony!"  
  
"Maybe that was a little over the top. Guess I just got carried away."  
  
"A little? I doubt Shakespeare would see it like that."  
  
"Look, Doc, I've gotta give it some enthusiasm! This scene needs energy, let me give it some!"  
  
The Doctor was enjoying his role as director immensely - that was until Paris had turned up. Well, 'turned up' wasn't, perhaps, the way to describe it, to be fair, he had practically dragged Paris along. He supposed that hassle was something you would have to put up with if trying to force Paris to do something that he didn't want to. And they were only at the auditions phase of the proceedings! It was simple, don't give Paris a part, he won't have to bother you again. Yet...  
  
"You're not taking this seriously, are you Mister Paris."  
  
"Me? Not take it seriously? Sorry Doc, I guess I'm just not cut out to be an actor."  
  
"I don't believe you. I am definitely going to give you a part. The only question is which one - so unless you want to get stuck with Reynaldo, I suggest you start impressing me."  
  
"Yes, Mr. Director."  
  
"How about you try a more solemn scene, one where you don't have to concentrate so much on the action, but on the words, on the emotion."  
  
"I'm not sure..."  
  
"Act 5, scene 2, lines 337 - 352."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Chakotay, if you could read Horatio's three lines in the middle?"  
  
"Of course." Chakotay replied, striding over to the Doctor's side, rather than going onto the stage with Tom, leaving his position at the back of the holographic theatre where he had been waiting his turn to audition. He wasn't there by choice of course; the Captain had 'encouraged' him to audition, the idea being to encourage others to get involved - boost morale. When suggesting that Kathryn should do the same, she had smiled and told him that you wouldn't possibly find her making a spectacle of herself in such a fashion. Captain's prerogative.  
  
Tom coughed nervously and moved so he was more centre stage. Dropping his foil, he decided to deliver the dialogue sitting down. Fumbling with his PADD to reach the required section and taking a deep breath, he began,  
  
"Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee. I am dead, Horatio. Wretched Queen, adieu. You that look pale and tremble at this chance, That are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time - as this fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest - O, I could tell you - But let it be. Horatio, I am dead, Thou livest. Report me and my cause aright To the unsatisfied."  
  
"Never believe it. I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here's yet some liquor left."  
  
"As th'art a man Give me the cup. Let go, by Heaven I'll ha't. O God, Horatio, what a wounded name, Things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me. If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, Absent thee from felicity awhile, And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain To tell my story."  
  
The Doctor simply blinked for a moment.  
  
"Well...I'm speechless! I think I've found my Hamlet." He finally said with an astonished tone.  
  
However, it couldn't rival the astonishment of Tom,  
  
"Really? You really want to give me the lead?"  
  
"Yes, that was...superb."  
  
"Thank you...I think." Tom replied with a small smile, before throwing a glance at Chakotay. His cheeks darkening with embarrassment, he said a hurried goodbye and then speedily left the holodeck.  
  
He hadn't noticed the way Chakotay had stared after him as he left, mouth still slightly open. Chakotay had never heard such raw emotion in the young pilots voice as he had heard when he was delivering those lines. In a couple of seconds, Paris had managed to transform himself into a dying young prince named Hamlet and delivered one of the most touching and heartfelt speeches that he had heard in a very long time. He vaguely remembered some mention of the Ensign's mother being on the stage, but he had never known that Paris held such a talent. But intentionally or not, Paris had demonstrated a very unique gift, delivering such a beautifully performed speech. It was a moment that Chakotay was sure he was never going to forget. 


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
"I feel like I'm back at the Academy." Tom mumbled under his breath from where he sat in his chair, watching as Chakotay sat down on the sofa, dropping his overnight bag on the floor. Apparently the words hadn't been low enough, as Chakotay replied,  
  
"Come on, the Academy wasn't all that bad."  
  
"Don't you think I feel childish enough as it is?" Tom suddenly shouted.  
  
Chakotay looked up and stared at Tom with surprise at his sudden outburst. Chakotay regained himself and said in a calm voice, "Why would you feel childish?"  
  
"What else would you expect?"  
  
"I don't know, Paris, because you refuse to talk to me." Chakotay replied in a somewhat strained voice. Tom just dropped his gaze to the floor, so Chakotay carried on, "Explain it to me. Tell me why you feel childish."  
  
Tom looked around the room as if looking for a distraction of some sort. His gaze finally came to rest upon Chakotay.  
  
"My *Captain* has referred me to a *shrink* because I get *nightmares*! How the fuck would you feel?" he ran a tense hand through his hair.  
  
"I realise that..."  
  
"No. You don't. Why don't you just get your things and leave, because I don't need your help. I don't need anyone's help. Why can't you realise that?"  
  
"Because, Paris, *you* need to realise something. When I walked in on your nightmare, I saw a truly scared man, a scared man who was in pain. It's not possible for me to pretend I didn't see that, the same way I couldn't just walk past someone who was badly injured and needed help. And you're just the same Paris, whether you like it or not, you are, because otherwise, you would have just ignored the fact that I was in trouble and left me to die in the cave on Ocampa, instead of getting me out and saving my life."  
  
Tom looked up at Chakotay for a few moments, considering what he had said. He finally got up and strode into the bedroom. When he came back, he threw a blanket that Chakotay just managed to catch before it dropped to the ground.  
  
Before Chakotay had time to look back up at him, Tom simply said, "Goodnight." Tom then walked back into his bedroom, leaving Chakotay to contemplate the winning of a small battle. 


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer and A/N see chapter 1.  
  
*****  
  
"Congratulations, Commander." Tom said in a cheerful voice as he walked down to his station upon entering the bridge. Nearly all the bridge staff turned to look at Tom with interest, just as Chakotay did.  
  
"Congratulations on what?" he asked with a wary frown.  
  
"Oh, haven't you heard?" Tom asked as he slipped into his seat, "The cast list is out, it seems that you will be playing Horatio to my Hamlet."  
  
Chakotay was aware of the Captain trying to conceal a smile.  
  
"You must have some mistake," Chakotay tried a smile, "I know that you're playing Hamlet, but me playing Horatio? I doubt that very much, I don't have the talent required." And even the Doctor wouldn't be that cruel, Chakotay added to himself.  
  
"Nope, no mistake." Then Tom suddenly looked up from his screen which he had been checking to look round at Chakotay with an innocent smirk, "Apparently we have 'good stage chemistry', I think was the phrase the Doctor used."  
  
A couple of chuckles went up from around the bridge before the Captain chimed in.  
  
"I think this is one production I'm going to really look forward to." 


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer and A/N see part 1  
  
*****  
  
It was the smash from Tom's bedroom that made Chakotay jump up and off the sofa. Taking a brief moment to steady himself and shake sleep from his mind, Chakotay bolted through to the bedroom.  
  
There was Tom, moaning on the bed, completely caught up in another dream - and a vase smashed on the floor, apparently knocked off unknowingly by Tom in his sleep.  
  
Chakotay carefully sat on the edge of the bed. "Paris? Paris...wake up..." He tried, already knowing it probably wouldn't get through to him.  
  
He put a hand on his shoulder. "Tom?"  
  
Paris bolted upright, knocking Chakotay away from him, gasping for breath.  
  
"Paris?" Chakotay asked again, going to touch his arm. Tom's eyes widened and he jumped out of the bed before going over to a bulkhead to lean against it. He slowly slumped down to the floor and ran his hands through his hair, holding his head in his hands.  
  
Chakotay couldn't stop a look of alarm reaching his features, this wasn't right. He made his way over to him in the dark and sat down next to him, but kept a distance between them.  
  
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly.  
  
There was no response.  
  
"Paris?" He tried again with concern.  
  
"Do I look fucking okay?" Came the terse reply from Tom.  
  
Well, it's an answer, Chakotay thought with relief. "What happened in the dream?" He asked quietly.  
  
Again there was silence.  
  
"Paris, I..."  
  
"I was in my counsellor's office." He said quietly.  
  
Chakotay couldn't help but feel some small triumph at his words. "Counsellor's office?" He asked.  
  
"When I was captured by Starfleet, they made me see a shrink whilst I was in prison."  
  
The two men sat in the dark room in silence for a moment. Each man leant against the wall as they sat side by side, looking forward into the darkness of the room.  
  
"Why?" Chakotay asked, barely above a whisper.  
  
"The same reason as I have to see you...they saw the nightmares." Tom replied, his hands now gripped on top of his drawn up knees.  
  
Chakotay frowned slightly. "You said your nightmare was of the counsellors office, yet you had nightmares before?"  
  
Tom merely nodded, his hands going back up to bury in his hair.  
  
"What happened, Paris? What happened to trigger the nightmares off?" Chakotay asked with appeal.  
  
Tom suddenly jumped up and went over to the view-port. "No. I can't tell you." He said firmly.  
  
"Can't?" Chakotay asked, standing but not following, he would allow Paris his space.  
  
"You'll use it against me...just like he did..." Paris said with near hate in his quiet voice.  
  
"He?" Chakotay asked as he got a little nearer.  
  
"Wilkinson...The counsellor."  
  
Chakotay was shocked for a moment, a counsellor use something from their sessions against him? The thought was severely disturbing to him. "Paris...I'm not going to use anything you say against you. You have my word." He assured firmly.  
  
Tom shook his head with a bitter laughter. "I've heard those words before." He said sceptically.  
  
"But now they're from me." Chakotay replied simply, moving so he was close to him but without touching him...he remembered only too well what Tom's reaction had been when he touched him without warning last time.  
  
"Yes...my Commander...someone with even more reason and even more hate of me to have a really good time with it." Paris almost sneered.  
  
"Paris..." Chakotay gave a frown and his voice was soft with disbelief. "I don't...I don't 'hate' you..."  
  
"You do a damn fine impression." Tom gave a slight, cold laugh, running a shaking hand through his hair.  
  
"Paris, I..." Chakotay looked down with a pang of guilt...yes...yes, he had done a rather good impression of it. "I'm sorry." He said quietly.  
  
Paris turned to look at him, moving closer in the dark so he could search his features, his gaze dragging over Chakotay for a long moment, breathing through parted, newly moistened lips as he looked with almost soft, blue eyes. "We both have shifts in the morning, we should get some sleep." He finally whispered, moving back to his bed and crawling under the covers, turning onto his side so his back faced Chakotay, not daring to move until Chakotay had left in defeat to go back to the sofa. 


End file.
